A Toast To The Lonely Souls
by Master-Sora
Summary: The truth is that this story doesn't start with Once Upon A Time at all. Quite the contrary, in fact, as this story starts with Presently. It isn't a fairy tale and happily ever afters don't come without consequence. This story takes place today; it's happening right as you read in a world you've never been to that looks suspiciously like your own.


_**A TOAST TO THE LONELY SOULS  
**__who could never take control of their lives_

**CHAPTER 1**  
_3/4ths brothers_  
June 5, 2012

Fairy tales often open with a tired _Once Upon A Time_. It's midnight; it's summer; it's in a forest; it's by a castle; it's dreaming and believing and wishes coming true. Two people fall in love despite their odds, then it ends with a wedding beneath an orchestra of songbirds. The open flame of romance roaring in the cockles of their connected hearts captures an audience in glittering cliches adorned with happily ever afters.

_Once Upon A Time_ offers a sense of nostalgia. It's long ago, perhaps, where everyone speaks in _ye olde English_ and has a pint with the blacksmith; it's in the age of beauty plagued by a darker time; it's mythological; it's imagined; it's romanticized. It's a world where princes and princesses exist to fight evil stepmothers and jealous queens, because in reality, that never happens.

Isn't it then funny how royalty sits in the threshold of _actuality_? They don't slay dragons or travel the world in search of their true love. No, what they do is stress beneath the glamor of the media and give speeches when political leadership is necessary. They also enjoy video games and scrolling through the internet in their spare time. They are painfully average with an exceptional title and monstrous responsibility thrust upon them by unfortunate outer force.

The truth is that this story doesn't start with _Once Upon A Time_ at all. Quite the contrary, in fact, as this story starts with _Presently_. It isn't a fairy tale and happily ever afters don't come without consequence. This story takes place today; it's happening right as you read in a world you've never been to that looks suspiciously like your own.

And so.

_**Presently**_…

Two identical blonds no older than seventeen are seated side by side, both sets of cobalt eyes focused on a towering door in front of them. They're waiting in jittering anxiety for a man they've never met, which is hilarious, really, but only in observation.

"Roxas," one speaks, turning to gaze at his twin with an easy affection. "What do you think he'll be like?"

Silence strikes a beat of discomfort before the other opens his mouth. "I don't know."

A sigh follows. "Well, I know you hope he's cool, right?"

"Yeah, sure I do, but let's look at the facts." Roxas straightens his posture and drags his eyes to the vaulted ceiling. "The last personal bodyguard I had's in prison for dealing cocaine." With a wry smile, he snorts. "Oh, and he was an asshole."

"I know but…why do you think history has to repeat itself? What if he's really awesome? You can't just come into this with that attitude, you know? He could be your best friend if you give him a —"

"_Ven_," Roxas interrupts sharply.

"— chance…"

He huffs. "You're just saying that because _you_ have Terra. That's just lucky, okay? I mean, Vanitas doesn't even _speak_ to his guard much."

Silence reigns in the main entranceway again. Ven's bristling, nostrils flared while he glares his frustration at the innocent wall opposite of them. Roxas chooses to ease into the silence with a bit of satisfaction but he knows his twin better than to think it's over — Ven's on a mission to make this easier and so, without a doubt, he'll carry this out until Roxas either relents or whips a finger in his face. Idly, he wonders which it will be.

"I just think you need to be more positive." A pause and then, "Don't give me that look."

_That Look_ was a slitted glare and a flattened expression.

"C'mon, man. Can't you just try? I want you to be happy."

It takes an abundance of self-control for Roxas not to simply stand and leave. (_I don't _need_ to be here_, would be his bratty excuse.) He manages to quell his irritation and subsequent anxiety enough to swallow the thick pill of a sarcastic retort while his brother swings his feet like an unrefined child.

"So," is how Ven attempts to continue. "What do you think he'll be like?"

But with a start, it isn't Roxas who answers.

"I'd imagine that he's about six feet tall, willowy, and has bottle red hair."

"What's _with_ you, Vanitas?" Ven says with a bitter note in his voice while he settles back down in his seat. "You're always creepin' up on everyone."

Amber eyes roll in exasperation as their eldest brother regally comes to stand before them. "Oh, what? Did I scare you?" His voice is a desert of scathing disdain. "Grow up, Ventus." He notices, however, that Roxas is looking at him with owlish curiosity and so he turns his full attention away from Ven. "I saw your bodyguard outside speaking with several officers. You should be seeing him shortly."

"It was nice of you to tell me," Roxas answers with just a spot of suspicion.

"I came to tell you not to scare him off too soon. We went all out in search of someone who might actually fit you and your attitude problem —"

"This coming from you?" he mumbles.

"So if you ruin this, you're answering to me. And _what_ did you just say?"

Vanitas has a way about him that seems to crawl beneath the skin. His mind houses a monster and truth be told, Roxas is almost afraid of being on the receiving end of that fury. Ven, in contrast, likely needs to be placed on suicide watch for the number of times he's intentionally provoked the raven haired tyrant.

Like now, for instance, as Ven stands to make eye contact with Vanitas because the smaller of the two honestly seems to think he stands some sort of a chance. "Don't you have somewhere to be? Like, I don't know, _not here_?"

And thus begins a silent showdown that honestly irritates Roxas because he knows that this will only escalate, so despite his fear of Vanitas' blind wrath, he closes his eyes and huffs out a loud and frustrated groan. "I'm about to kick you both out! This is _my _bodyguard we're talking about! I don't need either of you being dicks right now, got it?"

Somewhere just beyond the door, there's movement that can be heard above the echo of electronics and clambering footsteps down the marble pathway in the room beyond.

"Fine," Vanitas relents as Ven takes a seat, "but you're both ungrateful." That molten gaze shoots to Roxas in warning. "Like I said: _Don't_ fuck this up or you and I will have a serious problem."

"Whatever."

Vanitas scoffs. "I'll be around, smart ass," and he leaves without looking back, as silent as he'd been when he'd entered.

Several seconds pass, during which Ven releases what sounds suspiciously like a growl of conceded frustration. Roxas glances at him with his eyebrows raised, perhaps about to speak, but the twin who is older by nine and a half minutes beats him to the punch.

"When Vanitas is king, he'd better stop being such a dickwad." Ven crosses his arms because he clearly holds authority with this opinion — as if he can correct this issue. "Who the hell'll listen to him if he acts like that? I know_ I _won't…"

Roxas replies by grunting his agreement.

"Oh, hey," Ven continues with a sudden burst of excitement that once again draws his twin's attention. "What's your bodyguard's name?"

"Uh," and then Roxas' eyes are shifting toward the opening door. He makes a move to stand and sees Ven do the same in his peripheral. "They guy's name is Axel, I think."

"Hm, sounds like a stage name. That's kinda cool though, huh?"

Several bodies enter and begin toward them. Heavy footfalls resonate between the walls, above the sounds of background chatter and moving objects beyond their range of sight. There's two officers escorting a willowy man of about six foot with bottle red hair, and Roxas thinks hell. _Hell_.

Clicking his tongue at his brother, he lowers his voice to a whisper and tries not to let the judgement brush his expression. "He's supposed to be some sort of highly trained master assassin," _from an undisclosed location_.

"Bond," Ven says with a laugh. "Axel Bond."

"Shut up."

Royalty is often met with gobsmacked stares and strained etiquette, yet this master assassin seems to be unaware of these rules. He meets their eyes with a Cheshire grin and a slanted stare, easy bravado swirling within that dissecting expression. There's no low bow or stiff pleasantries because this isn't a fairy tale; this isn't _Once Upon A Time_.

And so.

_**Presently**_…


End file.
